


Honey to My Bee

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beekeeper Castiel (Supernatural), Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, I'll Be Honest This is Mostly Fluff So, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Mechanic Dean, Mornings, Romantic Fluff, Some Plot, Surprises, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, they're both saps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 07:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: "Yes, babe?" he asks, humoring him, though he can help the smile that tickles his own lips and exposes his dimples, which are more pronounced after his morning shave."What does honey taste like?"





	Honey to My Bee

Castiel never thought he'd fall for someone deathly allergic to his profession.

Dean, on the other hand, is a mechanic.  Cas thought, at first, how anyone could work for one of the most environmentally damaging trades since CFC was used in hairspray (which is why Cas's hair has been messy virtually since the day he was born) was beyond his realm of capacity for understanding.

Although, five years and a surrogate child on the way later, it’s safe to say Cas has accepted Dean for who he is, which, as Lynyrd Skynyrd sings (Dean's also managed to convert him on some things, such as music), is simple: He’s someone who wants to help people. And since most people drive cars, and cars break down, Dean’s way of helping them is changing the oil or replacing the battery.

Just like Cas wants to help the bees, so he became a beekeeper.

And the decision to initially hook up with Dean was simple, too: He's charming, kind, thoughtful, funny, and everything else written on the inside flap of a Nicholas Sparks classic.

But as much as Cas wants to share his passion with him like Dean’s so openly shared his for so long now, it still remains that Dean is _deathly allergic to bees_. And as tamed as the bees can be, Cas can't risk Dean dying on him over one bee that has a wild hair.

Speaking of wild hairs, Dean doesn't have to interrupt Cas's musings verbally for Cas to know Dean has one of his own he's itching to pluck. His long eyelashes adjust to the upshift of his forest green eyes. The sunlight is spilling through the curtains behind Cas just enough to see the spiky yellow rings chasing his pupils, which are widening to match the eye of the black coffee he's drinking out of. Then that crooked smile is back again, full-fledged, the one that crinkles his freckles easier than the Sunday paper out of the cellophane wrapping.

Oh yeah, did he mention Dean's also gorgeous? That definitely helped sell him to Cas.

"Yes, babe?" he asks, humoring him, though he can help the smile that tickles his own lips and exposes his dimples, which are more pronounced after his morning shave.

"What does honey taste like?"

“Hmm,” Cas says, thinking. "Sticky at first, but melt-in-your-mouth sweetness."

Dean nods, his grin not leaving his lips. "So, like us. We can be messy sometimes, between our fights and our makeups, our fast and stupid words above the sheets, and our slow and deliberate actions under them. But, at the end of the day, we're sweet. Because we love each other."

Cas brings his teacup to his own smiling lips, but not before saying, "That's a very poetic way of putting it."

“How would you put it?”

Cas bites his lip after setting his cup down to keep his smile from growing wider. This is a game they like to play. Dean’s brother, Sam, is the full-time writer in their family. He’s written everything from “cringey emo poetry about his tortured soul” (according to Dean, anyway) to award-winning short stories.

He even managed to get Dean back writing a non-fiction piece that eventually got featured in the _New Yorker_ about the time Dean thought he was Batman (but, of course, it ends on a high note, concluding that Dean, as ridiculous as he can be, actually is his hero—it’s a very sweet story that made Cas fall more in love with Dean than he thought possible).

Anyway, over the years, despite being his pain in the ass little brother, Dean has described being the slightest inspired by Sam’s works, and has churned out a few stories himself, even though he mostly sticks to journaling in his father’s hefty, leather-bound diary at the end of a long day at the shop.

Cas is not much of a writer himself, but Dean tends to bring out his poetic side, so, after pondering it over for a moment, he settles for: “You should know honey. Your words drip them when you open your mouth to speak. They’re light and sweet, but thick enough to hold promise and goodness. They’re the very thing I fall asleep to and look forward to in the morning.” He pauses, blue eyes flickering to Dean’s lips. “But I like them best when they don’t form sentences—when they don’t have the chance to blossom into words: When we kiss.”

Cas watches Dean’s tongue flick over those plump, pink lips he so lusts for.  They match the blush painting his cheeks, making the bundle of freckles he has around his nose stand out more. He finds it incredible that after five years, they can still manage to illicit such reactions out of each other. “You know,” says Dean, “I think I’ll have to get a taste of my own medicine.”

Cas drops his head for the smile that’s in full-effect now. After he has it reasonably tamed, he leans across the table and plants an open-mouthed kiss on Dean’s lips. When they pull back, Dean sighs and says, “I can’t do it anymore. I’ve been keeping this from you for too long.”

Cas tilts his head to the side. “Keeping what?”

Instead of answering, Dean reaches across the table with his arm, smile not faltering. Cas, realizing Dean’s asking for his hand, accepts it with a nervous laugh.

Dean ends up guiding him to the garage, where Cas is less likely to be unless he’s sifting through old moving boxes to find something. He casts one last look at his husband before he opens the door, motioning for Cas to go in, and that’s when Cas sees it, because he breathes, “Oh my God.”

Parked next to Dean’s ’67 Chevrolet Impala is a Chevrolet Volt. It’s styled blue (knowing Dean, he’ll probably say he picked it out because it matches Cas’s eyes) and shines on all sides, even under the dim glow of the garage light.

“I know you hate cars because they pump out carbon dioxide, so this one is electric,” says Dean. “I couldn’t get a good quote on the 2017 model, so this is the 2016 that came into our shop a few months ago.”

Cas turns to Dean at that. “Wait, you mean—?”

Dean nods with a shy smile. “I fixed ‘er up for you, yeah. Made some calls, replaced a few faulty parts. It _was_ white when it came in, but I wanted something that would make your eyes really pop.”

“Yeah,” Cas says, scoffing with a laugh, “you definitely accomplished that.”

“Take a look inside,” Dean says, and when Cas looks to his husband again, he sees him thrusting out the keys.

Cas never thought he’d grow to love cars the way Dean does, but once he does just that, that’s the feeling he’s hit with. It’s absolutely gorgeous inside too, from the black and brown leather upholstery to the touch screen radio, and just the sleekness of it all. It even _smells_ nice, like new car mixed with some kind of saccharine.

That’s when he notices the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror. “Dean,” he beckons.

A smile breaks out across Dean’s face once he’s in the passenger’s seat. “You like it?”

The smiling face of the cardboard bumblebee stares back at him. Cas turns to replicate the grin for Dean with a nod. “You know what I’d like even more though?”

“Hmm?”

“If we broke in the leather.”

Neither of them wastes time before diving over the armrest for another, more searing kiss.

 


End file.
